Swimming
by chezchuckles
Summary: SPOILERS - Pandora/Linchpin - 'Your songs remind me of swimming which I forgot when I started to sink.'
1. Chapter 1

**Swimming**

* * *

><p>for Cartographical, whose idea it was. if you want a happier post-ep for Pandora, read hers or read Sandiane Carter's.<p>

* * *

><p>Your songs remind me of swimming,<br>Which I forgot when I started to sink -  
>Dragged further away from the shore<br>And deeper into the drink.

-Swimming, Florence + the Machine

* * *

><p>The light swings around.<p>

The light goes out.

The light-

* * *

><p>Water rushes in, overeager and bubbling with glee, filling the spaces between them.<p>

Water - up around her stomach, swirling, even as her hands fumble at the safety belt, even as her panic squirms out from under her tight control.

She can't see him, but she can feel him. She can feel him at the back of her seat, the tug, ripping at the frame, the harsh and sudden jarring, the rattle of her teeth with his desperation, the jerk, the-

Nothing.

And then nothing.

Water evilly gleeful and filling up, rising as her panic rises up.

"Castle?"

She twists her head, slowly, afraid to look, and the water in the backseat is a bathtub, higher, filled up but-

no Castle.

"Castle?" Her voice cracks at the end so that she can't get anything else out. There's the flashlight, submerged, the light a blue in the grey-green, filling water-

Oh God.

Oh God, Castle.

She stops her frantic tug on the seat belt, drags her hand through the water, back and forth, ever widening searches even as the level rises, the car becoming one with the river.

Nothing.

There can't be nothing.

He's back there - he has to be back there. He's just - there's no room to be elsewhere.

This can't be how he-

Not the Hudson River. No. _No._

She searches the rear view mirror for a sign of him; he can't be that far under, can't have - or maybe he got stuck, maybe he's -

But it's her own wide eyes staring back at her as the water rises, clambering higher up her body, racing up her throat.

She arches her neck, lifts up, realizes this is her last breath - her last breath-

Oh God, _God._

This can't be the end. _No. _Castle-

She thrashes, yanks on the seat belt, _no good_, slams the full force of her elbow into the side window, again, _one, _two, _three, _again. Her arm grows brittle with each frantic jolt, she bites her tongue and has no air to gasp, her lungs fight water, burn, oh _God_, it burns-

Castle. Castle. He'll - he can - Castle-

is gone.

Whispers in the mute water.

She jerks as the water engulfs her, fills her ears, _can't breathe_, clutches the steering wheel and arches against her restraints, adrenaline pounding so fiercely that she can actually feel the slight give of the belt-

her lungs burn-

the water black-

a tunnel through that isn't a tunnel, just the collapse of her vision.

_Castle_. She can't - what is this without - she has to get him - she can't do this without - without him.

The feather of her fingers, bloodless, drifts away from the steering wheel without her okay, and she breathes - she has to breathe - she breathes it in, but she's drowning.

How did this happen?

The drift, a tide going out, drags her with it, swift as current, pulling her away.

_At least,_

she thinks,

_at least they drown together._

* * *

><p>The light goes on.<p>

A solar flare in darkness.

The percussive hits her ears, muted but stirring.

She opens her eyes and the water is so cold it burns.

His cheek close, his hands at her waist, the float of water as their drowning selves bump into each other, a ricochet of once-colliding bodies.

She brushes her lips to his cold skin in good-bye.

Lets go.

* * *

><p>A mouth. Lips to lips. A seal, unbroken.<p>

She fills up with it.

Warm and soft and lovely, mouth to mouth, heaven.

She fills up with it.

And then a drum beat to her chest that draws the warmth - burning now - up her throat like fingernails, expels from her mouth in a wretched torrent of water and air.

Kate chokes, arching, her body rolling to one side, and opens her eyes, feels the heavy, soaked clothing, the press of hands to her sternum, and she knocks them away, tries to breathe-

His form blocks out the light. She sees the sharp outline of his head, the spark of eyes, and the relief of his lips breathing her name.

Kissed awake.

The silhouette shifts and reforms, the light blinds her.

"Did we die?" she rasps.

He lets out a low, urgent laugh and slides his fingers under her neck, tugs her upward.

She sucks in another breath, the air like drowning, and tries to figure out where she is, what she is.

"No. Not dead yet, Beckett."

When he's got her propped in a sitting position, he lets go of her; she finds herself canting towards him uncontrollably, her body refusing to work. Castle catches her. She lets her forehead stay resting against his shoulder as she tries to remember how to breathe.

"You gonna make it?" he says roughly.

"I don't know yet."

* * *

><p>"You gonna make it?" she says roughly. She watches him move down the hall of the 12th, not sure what that look on his face means.<p>

"I don't know yet."

She nudges him again and he stumbles, as if he wasn't expecting it a second time.

"We didn't die," she says, and finds herself wanting to wrap her fingers around his.

"No, not dead yet, Beckett." He doesn't laugh back, doesn't lift his eyes from the floor.

They step into the elevator as one; she hits the button for the lobby. The silence inside the lift is granulated with the abrasive of Sophia Turner - her life, her death, her betrayal, her lies. Beckett shifts a little closer, close enough for the warmth of her body to meet the warmth of his, the friction she wants and not the one that _destroys unit cohesion_.

And then because there were moments (two in one case, honestly, isn't okay anymore) where she knew his life was over and she could do nothing, she does something now.

She threads her fingers through his, the backs of their hands brushing, their knuckles tangling, an inverted handhold.

He catches his breath and turns his head to her. "Did we die?"

She breathes out a choked laugh at his surprise and shakes her head, moves to let go, but he snags her back, takes her hand towards his stomach. Her fingers are wrapped in his fist now; her fingertips brush the material of his dress shirt, catch on the buttons.

He doesn't say anything as the elevator dives down, a slow and and inevitable descent.

They didn't die. They haven't died yet.

Next time?

The light in the elevator flickers and his fist tightens, his stomach clenches; she feels every movement in the space of darkness between the floors, the pitch black before illumination.

When the elevator doors open, disgorging them into the lobby, he drops her hand and steps out first - two things she never thought he would do.

So this time she follows.

* * *

><p>He stops and turns around when she's still there at his back. He lifts an eyebrow in askance, halfway down the block towards the place where they part ways. She doesn't want either of them to get there.<p>

"Let's go another way," she says and holds her hand out to him.

He stumbles but comes back, takes her hand.

"Where're we going?"

She doesn't know, but it might not be a good time to admit that. "Someplace better."

"Than?"

"Than not."

He seems confused and that's okay, because so is she. This isn't what she intended when she got in the elevator with him, not inscrutability, not obfuscation, not even subtlety.

So what happens now is up to her; she's leading him by the hand even though he's the one who stepped off the elevator, he's the one who found her gun and shot her seat belt and shot out the back window of the car and never gave up.

She had one job, stuck as she was, unable to get free. She had one job - to wait for him. He was going to find her gun, her weapon; he was going to set her free.

And she panicked.

She stopped waiting.

So now she's got to make up for that.

"Uh. Beckett? I'm supposed to get dinner with Alexis when she gets off work - or well, whenever Lanie lets her go."

Oh.

She stops, pivots on her heel to face him, the long walk back down to their crossroads. She was wrong - she can't avoid the corner where they're supposed to take their separate streets. There isn't something better than not - there is just the decision to part ways or to stick together.

"You want to come?"

His hand tugs her closer; she holds her ground.

"Have dinner with me, Kate."

She nods, even thought there wasn't a question. They head back the way they've been, just a few steps back really, and then past that to the same long sidewalk that leads to that final decision.

This time when they hit the corner where she should leave him, she doesn't. She won't.

She turns with him, bumps into his shoulder as they make their way.

* * *

><p>. . .<p>

**A/N**: I have no idea what this is or where it's going, but it's not over?


	2. Chapter 2

**Swimming**

* * *

><p>Pull me out the water, cold and blue,<br>I open my eyes and I see that it's you  
>So I dive straight back in the ocean.<p>

-Swimming, Florence + the Machine

* * *

><p>She steps through the door of his apartment building; he's holding it open himself. Not sure where his doorman is, but she likes passing him, passing close, the brush of his chest against her shoulder.<p>

He has deeper lungs than she does. Wider chest. She likes it; that broad chest saved her life.

His hand comes to her waist and he ushers her to the elevator, pushes the button before she can get to it. As they wait together, his fingers hook into the back-belt of her coat, tug a little. It's not like she can even feel his skin, not at all, not through wool, but it's sensual, that possessive and forward gesture that keeps her there.

The elevator doors open and he pushes a little, nudges her inside.

He's the top floor, and the ascent is slow and smooth. Completely unlike the elevator in the precinct, which churns and jerks along, sometimes seems to lose power, can't always be completely trusted to make it to where it should go.

Her heart rises along with the lift.

She shifts and feels the back of her hand brush his coat, the soft scratch of merino wool. Something of the drift of drowning possesses her, because she slides her thumb under the flap of his pocket and slips her fingers inside, hanging on.

He shifts too, closer, coats meeting; she's guessing on this, but she would bet that his hand in the strap at the back of her coat is clenched. She wriggles her fingers and gives him a sidelong glance. He's grinning.

She hums to herself, presses her lips tightly together but the smile is more than just her mouth - it spreads and transforms her whole face, making her cheeks hurt, her eyes say too much. This is a way of holding hands, roundabout, and she knows it. She knows it.

She took the turn with him out there, down on the sidewalk at their corner, and now here she is. She is going to stay for a while.

"Uh-huh," he murmurs, as if confirming something to himself.

She lets the smile loose, presses a finger against his thigh through coat and jeans and whatever else (there's a thought), feels him shift a little bit closer as the elevator floats them up to his loft.

"Uh-huh," she agrees, turns her face away so he can't see quite so much. Since she seems to have lost all ability to hide it, to be at all a mystery to him.

When the number for his floor lights up, there is only the flutter of her stomach finding its home, her heart being recalled to her body - nothing more. No harsh jerks, no sudden lurch.

Just the doors sliding back with ease and the two of them stepping off, neither one in the lead.

* * *

><p>Clearly, she has had too much to drink. Or not enough. It is one of those feelings tonight. Like before, when he dragged her out of her warm apartment to haunt a house, she has this lethargic and bright tint to her world view, as if all things are possible - ghosts and love and beating the odds.<p>

Alexis left after dinner - for the OCME's office again - there was a new body that Kate's team didn't catch. It seems Lanie now calls the girl much in the same way Beckett calls Castle. The symmetry is amusing and led to this - the two of them drinking on his couch, laughing a little at things that maybe aren't that funny.

He moves to refill her glass, but she takes it away, holds the thin remnant to her chest as she shakes her head. Much more and she really will fall asleep, and she doesn't want that, nor does she want the slight confusion of three-quarters of a bottle of wine.

She's been paying attention. He's not even buzzed; she, quite deliciously, is. But that's all for now.

Kate places her glass on the coffee table as he sets the bottle back as well. When they both lift, eyes rising and meeting, she is warm and melted and filled with the light of their recent salvation, and so she just pours right into the next step - acceptance.

She accepts the work being done in her, a work of love, and then puts her faith into action.

She curls her fingers around his neck, thicker and stronger than the stem of a wineglass though warmer and more giving. His eyes track to her mouth and she leans in to paint his lips with her own.

The moment they touch, everything is touching, pressed close and unable to sunder, thighs and forearms, chests and hips. She works along the canvas of his mouth, glazing the curve of his lips, scumbling the dark corners until he cracks, takes her inside.

She breathes a moan, wet-in-wet, and he answers with the same, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise as he layers his tongue over hers. She strokes the roof of his mouth, burning sour from the wine; he suckles at her, laves her bottom lip until it's too much.

They don't part, they just rest, noses nudging and bumping as if at any second they will get back to it, jostling for position as they breathe hard, puffs of air intimately exchanged.

His fingers release her hips, trail up her sides in a wash of hot color, linger at her shoulders, dipping his thumbs along her collarbones, brushing up her neck and under her chin, lifting her head.

She opens her eyes and sees him so close, lashes interlacing with her own.

His thumbs skirt her jaw and he buries his fingers in her hair with a soft sighing pleasure, cradling her. Kate presses her lips together to brush the skin she finds - just to the side of his eye, some cheek - and then she slides her arms around his shoulders and leans against him.

Castle moves back, lowering them to the couch, his body her pillow. When she opens her eyes, his are closed, and his breath slower now, but he hasn't released his too-tender hold on her skull.

She snakes an arm between them, nudging one of his hands away, takes his palm to kiss it, reverence and amusement both.

"Stay like this for a moment more," he murmurs, his eyes still closed.

He is asking her to wait? A terrible sense of _now or never_ has fallen over her and he wants to wait?

"Castle?"

He takes a long time to answer; she can feel the ragged pulse of his heart at her ear despite how even his breathing seems to be. When he speaks, his voice is raw.

"Kate."

She waits, staying still, but wanting to move, get going.

"After today, I know it seems urgent. But tomorrow, some of that urgency will fade. By next week, it won't be so black and white."

Her breath catches.

"Kate. Don't dive in with me if you can't swim."

Her throat closes up.

Castle's hand curls at her neck, his thumb swiping her cheek; she can feel the hard pound of his heart in his wrist.

"Are you-" She clears her throat. "Are you being the responsible one?" She's trying for levity, but her voice cracks.

"Damn," he murmurs. "See what you do to me? You make me responsible. I'm ruined."

_For anyone else._

She traces a nail over the button on his dress shirt, around and around, tries to do as he asked - push out the urgency, remember that she does, in fact, have her life to live, and so does he, tomorrow and tomorrow and all the rest of the days.

"Kate, I wouldn't let you drown," he says suddenly. "But I'm afraid - if you panic - you'd sink us both."

The prelude to pain is in his voice. And she knows that he's right. The moment it seems too much, no longer urgent and post-death-defying, she will backpedal and he'll hang on too tight and then she'll drown them both in her panic.

"I can't swim," she admits. "Not yet."

He sighs, long and hard, and his arms grip her tighter in juxtaposition.

"I might make it a little while, but-"

"No endurance," he murmurs.

No endurance. And this - this requires some endurance. Some _forever_ endurance.

"But can't - can't you come to the shallow end?" she says petulantly, blushes to hear it in her voice.

He laughs, a kind of bark that makes his arms tighten around her again. "Are you asking me to be shallow, Beckett?"

She laughs back, an ease in her breathing that she didn't realize she was missing. "Well. Not exactly. If I can still touch the bottom, if I just wade in . . ." Does she even have the guts, the endurance to ask for this?

She does.

"If I wade in, Castle, then we can do this-"

She lifts to his mouth and presses her lips to his, slides her tongue in to score past the surprised keeper of his sudden _responsibility_.

He groans around her mouth, shifts them so her spine hits the back of the couch, his body pressing close and needy, his hands tight.

She slips back, fingers to his jaw to hold him there. "Less urgent," she murmurs.

He sighs and drops his head to the couch, but her arm is in the way - he has a slow grin for her and nuzzles his lips into the crook of her elbow. Her stomach flutters.

"Less urgent?" he says, trailing his mouth so slowly up the inside of her arm. Her heart pounds fiercely, frantic for him.

"That's not - that's not making it less urgent." She closes her eyes.

His mouth reaches her neck and she can't help tilting her head back, trying to breathe, letting him in closer.

"Kate-"

"Yeah?"

His lips travel up the underside of her jaw and settle at the corner of her mouth. Warm and vibrating every time he speaks.

"I can do without diving if you can."

And he takes her mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Swimming**

* * *

><p>Take a deep breath, suck the water in my chest<br>Cross my fingers and hope for the best  
>-Swimming, Florence + the Machine<strong><br>**

* * *

><p>It's his suggestion that they have dinner at her apartment tonight instead of his. She thought he would want to envelop her in his family - insinuate her right into dinners at the loft and conversations about being home from college. But he's taking this seriously, like a program, like a training schedule he won't let them deviate from.<p>

She wonders if he taught Alexis how to swim. If so, is this the Kate Beckett adaptation?

"Wade in," she murmurs to herself, feels his hand tighten around hers as she unlocks her door. Hard to do with only one hand available, but he doesn't let go - he seems intent on always having a hand on her, to hold her up.

Water's only up to her ankles though. It's not like she can drown in an inch of bathwater. She needs to do something about this slow and cautious thing Castle has going. She's waded in to her waist before, she's made it to -

Well, the thing with Josh was maybe no further than waist deep, and Will? Will was splashing in the shallows while she sunbathed - both of them there at the same pool but not doing such a great job of getting together. Six months of diving into the deep end with Will only when she got too hot sitting in the afternoon sun. Never made for a real relationship.

"Stop thinking so hard over there," he laughs, that low and delicious tone to his voice that he's apparently been saving for her. It rolls over her body like a wave, makes her shiver, blinking her eyes to see him clearly through it.

"Mm, yeah," she admits and shuts the door behind them, shaking off his hand to turn the lock, a hip pressed into it.

"Takeout should be here any minute. They said delivery at 7:00," he tells her, already shrugging off his coat and scarf, laying them over the entry table.

She stands in her foyer for a moment, watching him at ease in her home, stunned by it. By what they're doing. What are they doing?

Castle reaches out both hands towards her, as if coaxing a child closer, his eyes tender. "Take your coat off, Kate."

She takes a hesitant step towards him, trying to shake off her own trickling panic, trying to be good, calm. She can do this - it's not the rest of her life, it's just today.

"Step one," he says softly, drawing his hands inside her sleeves and then down, taking her coat with it. The touch of his warm palms along her skin, his chest brushing hers - it revives her, sends that flash of awareness through her body that overwhelms anything else.

Kate leans in and kisses him, lightly, just a careful exploration of his frame of mind, just in case.

He hums against her mouth. "This is more like step five or something-"

She laughs back. "I'm not looking for baby steps here, Castle."

"No, that comes much later."

She stiffens, chokes on a laugh as she looks at him, but her heart is pounding harder and it's not in fear, not entirely. There's a healthy dose of want in it too.

"Ahh, spoke too soon?"

Kate leans her forehead against his chin, gives a sigh. "I - I don't - that's not wading in, Castle."

"That's kinda too close to drowning?" he asks, rubbing his hand up and down her back slowly, causing electric desire to skitter across her spine.

"That's a tsunami," she gets out.

He laughs, and her doorbell rings in the middle of it. Castle releases her, heads for the door while she turns and picks her coat up off the floor. She brushes it out, trying to calm the mad flutter of her struggling, overeager heart, and hangs it in the closet as Castle pays for their Chinese.

She hangs his coat and scarf next to her own, likes the way they look together, a pair. Somehow - no matter what jacket or coat she chooses in the morning - Castle is wearing something similar.

A sign from the universe, he'd say.

He brushes past her to set their food cartons on the kitchen island, spreading everything out and opening every one, the heavy, rich aroma of noodles and soy sauce and steamed vegetables drifting through the room.

"Soup's on," he says, turning his head and giving her that too-happy, no-worries smile.

He smiles at her like that and she - she can't breathe.

She wavers on the edge of the kitchen, her hands tucked up under her sternum as if to help hold her together, and then Castle reaches out to her, fingers wriggling, still smiling.

Kate takes a slow, sliding step forward.

Dinner. She can do dinner.

* * *

><p>She laughs again and knocks his hand away from his iPhone. "My turn, Castle. Hands off."<p>

"You can't say that - everyone reads my twitter."

"It's funny. You were the one who told me to-"

"I didn't mean for you to post it," he growls, settling his wine onto the table and reaching for her again.

She backs up to the end of the couch, holding his phone away from him, her finger hovering over the tweet button. He doesn't even have to move far, just extends full length over her, eyes intent on his phone, his body pressing fully into hers.

Her arm dips with the contact, eyes closing briefly as her nerve endings flare to life, swamped by the way it feels, he feels, how good-

"Ha!" he laughs, swiping the phone from her and grinning in her face. He doesn't move off of her, which makes Kate wonder if he did the whole thing on purpose, but she can't fault him for it - subtle or not - because she likes him right here.

Castle ducks his head and drops a sloppy, victorious kiss to her mouth, then shifts - like he's going to move off her - and she curls a leg over his thigh, traps him there.

His deer-in-the-headlights look lasts only half a second and then his mouth is descending, a delicious warmth that flows right into her and down, a waterfall of pleasure.

Kate lifts into him, grins against his lips at the sound he makes, slips her tongue out past her teeth to find his. A rough hand in her hair, tugging her closer, and then Castle is losing it - taking her deeper, tugging her under, and she goes, she goes, she won't struggle, she'll sink right to the bottom with him.

Sink right down, drowning-

Wait. Wait, wait. Baby steps. _Wait, no, not-_

"Less urgent," she murmurs, sucking in a breath. "Less urgent, Castle-"

He breaks away from her, his eyes slowly opening on a look that only makes her heart leap in her throat. She reaches up and brushes her fingers over the crease in his chin, trails along his jaw. She's finding it hard to breathe and she's not sure if that's because he's on top of her on her couch or if it's because of that look.

"That's not - that's not making it less urgent," he growls back at her, turning his mouth to catch her hand, teeth and then lips.

She curls her arms around his back, hugs him down over her. He huffs a breath - more laughter than anything - and kisses her neck softly before shifting his body to one side.

"That's what you get for trying to hijack my twitter account," he whispers, his tongue touching her earlobe.

Her body arches up in reflex, the shudder tumbling down her skin so hard that she can barely hold on, hears him chuckling.

"Not funny, not funny," she mutters senselessly. "What you do to me-"

He grows still; her eyes flicker open on an internal groan. Damn.

Castle strokes his fingertips down the side of her face, his thumb resting against her bottom lip. She slowly meets his gaze, but it doesn't seem at all like she's inadvertently given him the upper hand, all the power. No, instead he looks humbled, and amazed, and in love with her.

He presses his lips gently to her cheek. "It's completely mutual, Kate Beckett. You do the same to me."


	4. Chapter 4

**Swimming**

* * *

><p>Then all of a sudden, I heard a note . . .<br>Your songs remind me of swimming.

-'Swimming', Florence + the Machine

* * *

><p>"Takeout should be here any minute. They said delivery at 7:00," she says, passing her fingers lightly over his shoulder.<p>

Castle's head swivels to her, eyes wide, his gaze flicking back once to Esposito and Ryan sitting around the conference table.

She pretends not to know what he means and sits back down in her chair, spreads the financials out in front of her, focusing on the lines of numbers.

Esposito throws a wad of paper at Ryan, and when he looks up, the two boys make eye contact and then glance to her. Beckett ignores them as well, outwardly, but it's exactly what she was going for when she touched Castle.

She feels his foot nudge hers and lifts her eyes to him. Askance dances across his face, but she only smiles at him, a palm propping up her head at her jaw, smiles and wants to kiss him. But there's a job to do first.

Castle sighs and goes back to the investigation.

Kate smothers the smile and slips her heel off, slowly, and then slides her toes around his dress sock at his ankle.

Castle jolts, his knee crashes into the table, and everyone's pens and mugs rattle. Esposito gives him a long look, but Ryan, a little clueless tonight, yelps and mutters about Castle being clumsy as he mops up his coffee.

Kate bites the inside of her lip and watches Castle try to recover. The moment he settles back to work, she does it again, curling her toes to his ankle and higher this time, hiking up his pant leg.

To his credit, Castle only goes very still, as if concentrating greatly. His lashes flutter against his cheeks, mouth tightly closed, his shirt open at the collar so she can see the way his throat works as he swallows.

She wants to hum but Espo is sitting entirely too close for that. Maybe later. After she does this.

Kate hooks the top of her foot at the back of his leg, wrapped around his calf, and then slips her other shoe off, loud enough so Castle can hear it. She watches his body tense as she balances in her chair, abs tight, and adds her other foot to his shin, then slides both up his leg.

He sucks in a breath. "Mm, yeah," he mutters.

Esposito's eagle eyes home in on Castle. "Yeah what, bro?"

Castle startles and opens his mouth, closes it, looks at Kate as if he doesn't have any clue what Esposito is talking about.

"Yeah, what?" Esposito says more insistently. "You find something? Idea come to you? New theory? We could use a break in this case."

Kate watches him too, the way his face flickers with emotion as he tries to think, handsome and stunned and speechless. She likes that face. She wants to make it happen more often.

"I got nothing," he sighs finally.

Esposito turns his fierce gaze immediately to Beckett, but Kate can't do a thing to wipe the expression off her face in time. And he sees it. His eyebrow goes up, his look grows stony and older brotherish, and then he narrows his eyes back to Castle.

"Hey, man. Wanna take a break, come with me?" Esposito starts to rise, but Kate reaches out and grabs Castle around the wrist.

"No." She turns and glares at Esposito, saying what she wants him to hear in the language of what Ryan still needs to hear. "We have work to do. We'll break - all together - for dinner. Sit down, Javi."

"At dinner?" he pushes.

"Dinner," she confirms.

He sits slowly, his eyes hard on Castle's.

When Kate looks back to Rick, she slowly releases his wrist finger by finger, watching him to make sure he understands.

Hm. No, he probably doesn't.

Kate gives him a gentle smile. "Stop thinking so hard over there," she says softly.

His eyes meet hers, questions swimming in the blue of his eyes. But she has answers.

"Just keep at it until dinner."

* * *

><p>Castle pays for their Chinese takeout and spreads the cartons over the conference table. It's happened so many times like this before that there's not even any sense of deja vu - it's just right.<p>

When he straightens up and the boys are standing right behind him, Kate steps in close and brushes her lips across his cheek, breathing in his ear. "Thanks for dinner."

His eyes are glued to hers, the boys are both standing with their mouths dropped open, so she turns and grabs a carton of chicken lo mein and chopsticks, sits back down. She lifts her gaze to Castle; he's rooted to the spot.

"Castle?"

He shuts his mouth, opens it, shuts it again. A delicious pink slips over his cheeks, flushes his throat, but he grins at her. Esposito slaps his shoulder twice, hard, and he stumbles forward.

Kate isn't even at all surprised by the warmth suffusing her. "Get your food. Come sit, Castle."

She pushes his chair out with her foot and he lurches forward as if pulled, then shakes his head, glances back at Ryan and Espo, then down to the food still on the table. She doesn't hide her smirk as she watches him grab a couple of containers and a fork (he's crazy messy with chopsticks and she teases him when he tries them out).

Castle sits down in the chair she offered him, pulls it up closer than it had been before, their knees touching. She bites her bottom lip and grins at him, feels Espo and Ryan's eyes on her, glad for it.

Time to move things forward. A little accountability is what she needs - an older brother and a younger one to keep at her, cheer her from the side of the pool. Something. The metaphor is starting to fall apart on her a little, but what she knows is that when Castle smiles at her like that, she wants everyone to see it.

See it and know she put it there.

* * *

><p>His hand smooths over her thigh as they sit close at the table, full and sated, even as Ryan and Esposito moan and complain about their fruitless financial search. She keeps her legs crossed, and his fingers slide between them slowly, his thumb playing along the hinge of her knee.<p>

Esposito shoots him dirty looks, over and over until Kate sits forward and intercepts one, glares back at him, staring him down until he ducks his head. She sits back and Castle's fingers squeeze her thigh; she glances at him and he's smirking.

She reaches out and brushes the back of her fingers against that mouth, leans in and kisses his cheek, briefly, before going back to their fruitless financial search.

"Uh."

Castle's fingers curl around her knee, a knuckle digging into the back of her other knee, and she looks up at Ryan.

"Yes?"

"Did you - you just - are you guys-?"

"Ryan?"

He closes his mouth, tilts his head, narrows his eyes. She waits and then he nods. "Right. Okay. So you guys are kissing now."

"Now?"

His face blanches and Esposito coughs.

She feels Castle's hand slide away, fingers curl around her elbow instead. Not as much tingling, not as many electrical slides into arousal as before, but the boys can see the hand at her elbow and they both sit up.

"More than kissing?" Ryan squeaks.

"Not your business," Castle growls.

Kate laughs, because _oh my word_ this is ridiculous, but they're her boys, and her - her partner - and Ryan asking that is like a little kid finding out that Mommy and Daddy-

"So what are your intentions here, then?" Esposito says, sitting back in his chair, arms akimbo, face hard as stone.

"My intentions are to get through these financials so I can take Castle home with me," she says, lifting an eyebrow at Javier. "You wanna know the details, Javi? Cause-"

"Ew, no. No. I'm talking to my boy here. What are his-"

"You really need to ask that question?" Castle says suddenly. "Doesn't everyone around here already know? I mean, I figured it was pretty obvious and I'd been - transparent as glass for the last couple years-"

"Couple years?" Kate asks, her head swiveling to look at him. Shock trickles through her like she's foolishly entered the Coney Island Polar Bear Plunge.

"Yeah, we all knew," Ryan sighs.

She jerks her head back to Ryan, to Espo, to Castle. "A couple years?"

"Uh, should we-?" Castle jerks his head to the door and he half-rises. _Talk._

She follows, but she's already come to terms with _a couple years_ and has moved on to a warm and filling delight, pleasure, _relief_, and so when she steps outside the conference room after him, the hall empty, she slides both arms around his neck and leans in close.

"A couple years?"

"Uh."

She brushes her lips across his cheek, her heart pounding even as the feeling makes her powerful, makes her in control, because still, still, he said it was clear for a couple years. Transparent as glass.

"Kate?"

"Mm." She nibbles at the edge of his jaw, nuzzles her nose into his neck, breathes him in deeply.

"The blinds are up. The boys are watching."

She feels his fingers lift from her back, probably a wave, and she shrugs. "I don't care. Actually, I do care. You think I did this on accident?"

"You did - this was on purpose?"

"Of course." She doesn't kiss him again - nuzzle him, manhandle him - but she does stay close. "Planned it."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Castle says nothing, so she pulls back her head and glances hesitantly at him. He looks awed. His smile is slow, his head tilts as he looks at her, and it's not the cute smile, not the adorable one, it's the rather seductive one.

"You showing me off to your friends, Kate Beckett?"

She smirks back. "No." At the look on his face, she darts in for another kiss, rakes her teeth over the scruff coming in just below his smile. "Showing you off to my family, Castle. Those were my brothers. My dad is next. You up for that?"

He sucks in a breath, eyes flying to hers, face wiped clean of expression.

"Not looking for baby steps here," she says gently.

He nods back. "I'll stop going so slowly then. Get you wet."

She gasps, sees the leer in his eyes, hears it in his voice, and laughs so hard she has to hold on to him to keep from falling over.

He kisses her cheek. "Let's get to work, Kate. Finish the fruitless financial search so you can take me home."

"More than kissing?" she laughs, still breathless.

"We'll see."


	5. Chapter 5

**Swimming**

* * *

><p>It started in my chest and ended in my throat. . .<p>

-Swimming, Florence + the Machine

* * *

><p>Her father knows him already, of course. But it doesn't stop her from lacing her fingers through Castle's as they walk hand in hand up the front path to her dad's door. Doesn't stop the dampness to her palm and the race of her heart.<p>

That might just be nerves affecting her, but it's Castle too - a blend of anxiety and anticipation, the flip sides of the same coin.

He looks good in charcoal dress pants, a crisp white shirt, a rich purple tie. She's never seen that tie before; she likes it. Kate reaches out with her free hand to smooth it down, feeling the silk slide under her fingers.

He leans in and rings the doorbell, his shoulder brushing hers. "You up for this?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Not looking for baby steps here," she repeats, not even needing to lift up to kiss him, her heels are so high. The warmth of his mouth is soothing.

Her father answers the door at that exact moment, her lips caressing his, and she pulls back, gives Castle a chance to compose himself before she lets go of his hand to hug her father.

"Hey, Katie."

"Hey, Dad. Thanks for letting us come for dinner."

He pulls her through the doorway, moves past her to shake Castle's hand, clap him on the back as they huddle in the entryway, rather awkwardly.

"Move, move," Jim says, pushing at her back. "Food is through there, in the kitchen. You guys dressed up, but I figured we'd be a little more informal."

Kate looks over shoulder at Castle - the one who insisted on formal attire - lifts her eyebrow at him in _I told you so._

"Uh-huh, just like your mother," Jim grumbles, laughing with Castle at the surprise that washes over her face. "Katie, honey, I know that look. What - she tell you to come in jeans?" He gives her partner another easy smile.

Her father might be able to read the look on her face, but she can read his too. Jim is just as nervous, and that - that eases her way somehow, makes it better. Her father wants this to go well just as much as she does.

"I did tell him to wear jeans," she says smirking back at Castle. "He's the one who wanted to go with a tie and heels."

"I did _not_ want to wear heels," he says hotly, just enough mirth dancing in his eyes to make her father crack up, real laughter in his throat.

"Ah, good to know," Jim says, gesturing towards the three places set out at the kitchen table. Her father made this table a few years ago, stained it a dark walnut; she's reminded of recovery and redemption and all the ways a man can rise from the ashes of his life and come back better, stronger.

So can she. So she is.

Castle waits at her side a moment, as if he's going to pull out her chair, but she gives him a look and points to the place diagonally from her spot. Her father flashes her a grin and they all sit down to a table laden with dishes.

"Smells amazing, Dad. What did you make?"

"That beef and golden mushroom soup concoction your mother always loved."

"That takes hours," she says, smoothing her hands down her skirt under the table. Castle's knee brushes hers and then stays there, pressed against her skin.

"I put it in the crock pot, Katie. No big deal."

"Rolls?" she asks, her mouth lifting in a smile. Her father hands her the ladle for the beef soup-casserole dish and she dips it into the bowl.

"Of course. Best part is scooping up the sauce with a roll. I've kept them warm; let me get them." He stands up and heads for the oven.

Kate shoots a swift look to her still-silent partner - too silent, really - but he's watching her with a tender concentration in his eyes that makes her breath catch. She realizes he hasn't seen much of her being a daughter, being family, unless it's the awkward and hesitant dance with Alexis and his mother.

And then his socked foot slides up her shin.

Kate chokes on a laugh, a little breathless, and her father sends her a look as he sets the rolls on the table. She shakes her head at him, tries to steady her hand as she dishes out stew and meat.

Castle's toes curl at her ankle, then slide around to her calf. She bites her bottom lip and hands him the ladle so he can serve himself. He grins at her and takes it, his toes trailing over the top of her foot. When did he slip off his shoe?

She piles rice on her plate, grabs a couple of rolls, surreptitiously watches Castle as he starts to eat. His foot still makes the occasional foray along the curve of her leg, but he's engaging her father in small talk - cooking, and daughters, and the city.

She keeps mostly out of it, distracted by his touch, yes, but more fascinated by the way they get along, the ease her father has talking with Castle, and the genuine effortless of their conversation.

"What about you, Katie?"

She fiddles with her fork. "I haven't gotten much time to see any shows lately." She shrugs at her father. "My down time is spent - well-" She doesn't want to say that she spends her down time in therapy, or standing in front of her window staring at a case she's had to let go.

"It's spent with me," Castle says, giving her a little grin, rescuing her. "We should go sometime. Just - no musicals."

"None?" she says, raising an eyebrow. "But I like musicals. They're my favorite, actually."

Her father laughs at the look on Castle's face. "She's not kidding, son."

Castle sighs. "Don't you think I get enough of that?"

"So I'll go with your mother," she says. "Leave you at home."

"Oh, so not nice." He narrows an eye at her, not a pout - not in front of her father perhaps - and grabs a roll from the basket. "Fine, fine. We can see a musical."

"Oh, no, Castle. Wouldn't want to force you-"

"No, no. We'll go. The things I do for you," he sighs.

She rolls her eyes as her father laughs again, pointing his fork in her direction. "Willing to suffer through a musical - he's a keeper."

The foot over hers goes still; she turns and catches the look on his face, the intensity of it nearly too much, but she smiles and glances back to her father.

"I already knew that."

* * *

><p>She drives without thinking, heading for his loft. He chatters, like usual, this time about her father's carpentry skills rather than murder suspects, but it's the same patois - Castle building theory about motive and m.o. but for her father's woodworking and not for a case.<p>

Kate hums or makes a noise of agreement in all the right places, gets the chance to just listen without having to do much work. His voice is so much richer when she's letting herself float in it, like every syllable, every sound has an echo of emotion even when he's talking about nothing important. If she wasn't driving, she would close her eyes and rest in it - wrap herself in the low tones of Rick Castle.

She would love to listen to him read Nikki Heat.

Kate bites her lip and tries not to blush, remembering certain scenes, trying _not_ to imagine what his voice might do to her at page 105.

He's just winding down when they get back to Manhattan, and when he falls silent, she risks a glance at him.

He's studying her as if he sees too much, knows exactly what she's doing. "So how'd I do?" he asks finally, when their silence has stretched.

She gives him a smile. "When Dad told me good-bye, he said I should let you drive, now and then."

Castle grins. "He did?" There was, of course, a brief but melodramatic conversation about how she never lets him go first, never lets him drive, never lets him _be the man_. Not true, the last one, considering the last few weeks. . .

"Mm, firmly on your side."

"I knew I liked your dad."

"Doesn't mean I will," she cautions, sliding her hand off the steering wheel and catching him by the elbow. He seems to understand, because he crooks his arm and brings his other hand up, laces their fingers together.

She lets out a slow breath. Her father really is on his side - has been, probably, for longer than Kate might like to admit.

"You did good, Castle."

He makes a noise in his throat, pleasure and pride, and she turns the car onto his street. "You going to come up for a bit?" he asks, squeezing her fingers.

She hadn't planned on it. Actually, she meant to take them both back to her apartment, tell him she wanted to try the breaststroke, see whether that got laughter or arousal out of him.

But she was on auto-pilot it seems, and now they're already here, at his loft. She parks in the first space she can find, rather than idling in front of his building, which she knows says a lot about what she secretly wants to do. Craves.

"Is Alexis at home?"

"Yes."

She asked because the answer is important, but she's still not sure why, not sure how the girl's presence in the loft affects Kate's inclinations, one way or another.

Perhaps it keeps Kate from spending the night, keeps her from diving headfirst into a body of water that she's not sure is deep enough. She'd break her neck.

But since Alexis is there, maybe she shouldn't come up at all.

"Kate."

She glances at him, at the hand rising through the darkness to caress the side of her face, a thumb at her cheek. She closes her eyes. "I want to come up," she sighs.

"Okay. Come up."

"I'm not sure how," she admits, opening her eyes reluctantly.

He's grinning at her, amused, his fingers gentle at her face. "You open your door. You hold my hand. We walk inside the building together. I'll press the call button in the lobby; you can press the button for my floor. The elevator will do all the heavy lifting."

She huffs a little laugh, feels her mouth widening into a smile for him. "I meant - I'm not sure how I'm coming up. What - what I want to do once I'm there."

"Anything you like," he answers. Castle leans in and brushes a chaste kiss to her top lip, glancing the corner of her mouth as he pulls back. "Come up for air, Kate."

Oh, yes. She's been exhausted by all this work - work at having a relationship, work at being a stronger woman - and it would be nice to take a breath for once, a deep breath, stop trying so hard.

"Tonight, you can just float," he murmurs.

She sighs. It sounds beautiful. She can imagine lying on her back in the gentle quiet of the water, watching the stars drift by in the dark sky overhead.

"Okay," she says finally and turns her head to press her lips to his wrist. "I'll come up."


	6. Chapter 6

**Swimming**

* * *

><p>Then I realized, then I realized, then I realized<br>I was swimming,  
>Yes, I was swimming<br>And now I'm swimming,  
>Yes, I am swimming<p>

-'Swimming,' Florence + the Machine

* * *

><p><em>Yes.<em>

His hand ghosts hers on the elevator, along the hall, fingers glancing off each other's, not quite holding hands but so much better. When they stand in front of his apartment, he touches her waist with his palm as if to steady her.

He unlocks the door, and Alexis bounces up from the couch, big grin and dimples, but falters for half a heartbeat when she sees Kate. The young woman recovers, comes eagerly towards them, hugs her father, leans in to do the same to Kate.

An awkward touch of thin arms and the press of cheeks, but the flicker of disappointment is completely gone from Alexis's face. If it was ever there.

"How was dinner?" she asks.

"Good. We need to invite Jim over here sometime," Castle says.

Kate's stomach flips, but he's already taking her by the fingers and tugging her down into his loft, the three of them heading for the couch. Kate ends up crammed in the corner, Castle sitting at her side, her knee tucked under his as Alexis takes the other end and stretches her legs out.

Her father pats the tops of her feet and leans back, jiggling a knee to make her legs bounce. Alexis is grinning at him, shoves a toe into his ribs; Castle huffs at her, squeezes her feet.

Kate leans against the back of the couch with one arm, watches for a moment, caught in the exchange. It's her turn, is it?, to be the witness to the father-daughter relationship. She's fine with this; they don't need her participation, but they've included her just by allowing her here. They're talking about whether or not Castle embarrassed himself in front of Jim, and it makes her smile.

She's good with this. She can handle it. No problem.

"Kate, does your dad - what does he do?" Alexis asks suddenly into the gap in conversation.

"He's mostly retired. He was a lawyer." _Too_. She gives the girl a shadow of a smile. "He met my mom at work."

"Like you guys," Alexis says, her face brightening.

Everyone holds a breath; the room goes still.

Kate shifts on the couch, catches Castle's forearm before he can turn and apologize. She doesn't want apologies.

"Like us," she affirms, smiling at Alexis.

The young woman breathes out, smiles back, hesitant but growing ever stronger.

Castle clears his throat, already twisting his arm to catch her fingers and lace them with his own. "Jim was telling me about his hobby - he builds stuff out of wood."

Kate lets out a little laugh. "Carpentry, Castle. It has a name."

"Yeah, that. It's so cool. He made the table we ate dinner on."

Alexis lifts her eyebrows, a miniature Castle, that same expression of impressed excitement. "Can he make - say - bookshelves? Like, something I can take to college?"

Castle sighs deeply, but Kate sits forward, scenting her chance. "Yeah. If you have an idea of what you want, a plan, my Dad can do it. What were you thinking?"

"All my bookshelves upstairs are six foot, and heavy, and that's no good. I need like - something light, Shaker style."

"Actually," Kate grins at her, tucking her feet up under her body as she leans over Castle to talk to Alexis. "Dad built a bedside bookshelf for me that I think he can do on a bigger scale. The shelves and sides are on hinges so that they fold up. That way you can carry it. It's super easy to stick in the car - great for moving back and forth to the dorms or an apartment-"

"Oh no. No. You don't get your own apartment until you're a junior in college, at least. At the very least." Castle points a finger at his daughter, then turns on Kate, narrowing his eyes. "And you. Don't encourage her."

"Ooh, yes," Alexis says with relish. "I've got Kate on my side. This totally works for me."

Kate grins at her, feels it splitting her face with how ridiculously relieved she is, how easy it was too. "I'm serious about the bookshelves. Dad works fast. And the one I've got is really durable. I've got stacks of books piled up on it."

"Thanks, Kate," Alexis grins, then pulls her feet out of Castle's lap and leans forward to kiss her father's cheek. She then opens her arms to Kate and hugs her across him; Kate embraces her back, can practically feel Castle beaming with pride above them.

"Any time."

Alexis leans back and gets off the couch, a hand on her father's shoulder. "I'm going to bed. Gotta get some sleep while I still can, before Lanie calls. But you should stay, Kate. Okay? Stay."

Stay.

Apparently this is how this will work. Castle's daughter will invite her to stay the night.

She nods. "Okay."

Alexis catches Kate's hand as she leaves, squeezing before heading upstairs.

Kate watches her go, even as Castle's hand grips hers harder.

* * *

><p>She's not sure how it's gotten to this, but it's beautiful; it was easier to get here than she thought. When she closes her eyes, she can feel the sink of her body into his bed, the warmth of him with her.<p>

"See?" he murmurs, and trails his fingers across her forehead, brushing the hair back. "Much more comfortable than the couch."

"Mm." She opens her eyes and sees him over her, the smile that reshapes his face. Kate lifts her hand from her stomach and presses her fingers to his chin, the hint of dark scruff at his jaw.

He catches her fingers with his hand and kisses them, quickly, not lingering. "You falling asleep?"

"Maybe," she answers, and lets her eyes drift closed again.

He lowers her hand back to her stomach, lets go to stroke up her side and back to her face. Her head rests on his thigh, lying in his king-sized bed and sprawled diagonally across it. He's leaning back against the headboard, his fingers idly playing with her hair.

She hums again and lifts her hand to catch his this time, bring their clasped hands to her ribs, at her sternum, resting there.

He's silent for a long time. But she knows he has something to say and is just waiting for the right moment or maybe the right words. Still, neither comes.

She feels him shifting, can't be bothered to look, to find out what he's doing. He fumbles at the bedside table for a moment, comes back. She still has one of his hands pressed against her chest, their fingers laced together.

Still the silence stretches on and her curiosity overcomes her tiredness. Kate opens her eyes and turns her head slightly to look at him.

Castle is reading a book, his face hidden behind Haunted, the cover of which is a face itself, mouth open and wide-eyed in terror.

Kate laughs and Castle lowers the book, raises an eyebrow.

She turns onto her side to face him, cheek against his thigh, brings her hand to his waist. "Ghost stories?"

"You've read it?"

"Started it. Couldn't find the time to finish it. Read it to me?"

He hesitates. "It's - disturbing."

"Read until I fall asleep," she compromises.

"I don't know if anyone can fall asleep to this."

"Try me," she encourages, then brings her mouth down to the knuckles of his hand, still gripped in hers.

His fingers flex and he shakes his head. "I'll read you something better."

He tosses the paperback onto the floor and reaches for something else on his bedside table; she can't see what. He straightens up with The Time Traveler's Wife and she laughs even harder, but it's sweet.

It's very sweet.

"Okay, Rick. Read that instead."

He smiles down at her, lifts their join hands so he can run his thumb over her eyelids, closing them. She sucks in a breath at his touch and curls her knees up, feeling him warm around her.

"I'll read until you fall asleep."

She's already halfway there, really, and then she hears his voice in the dark room, and the sound of it is just right, the one thing she wanted - Richard Castle reading her a book.

"'I look at Henry. 'To happiness. To here and now.' Henry gravely replies, 'To world enough and time,' and my heart skips and I wonder how he knows. . .'"

Kate drifts out on the rumble of his voice telling a love story, how easy it is to tell.

"'. . .and then it is borne in on me that Clare knows everything, our future, our past, everything, and I shiver in the warm room. . ."

She is warm; she doesn't shiver. She's borne aloft on the rhythm of his voice in time, the promise of everything - future and past and now - having an _our_, having a love story to tell.

There's no struggle in this. She is just-

swimming.

How easy it is with him.


End file.
